


Reclaimed

by 21WhumpStreet



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Gen, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/21WhumpStreet/pseuds/21WhumpStreet
Summary: Malcolm knew enough about drugs and his own body to immediately notice that something was very wrong.
Comments: 69
Kudos: 294





	1. Reclaimed

Malcolm lay face up on the floor where he’d collapsed seconds before, the ceiling was swirling, as was his mind. It had all happened so quickly, as these situations he seemed to find himself in almost daily often did. 

He’d arrived early to speak to his Father about a new case and taken a big gulp of his complimentary coffee, a little caffeine fix to help him stay awake after yet another sleepless night. A slight taste of something sinister, a burning sensation, a peculiar feeling that started in his mouth and led all the way down to the pit of his stomach. A feeling of dread washed over him. Malcolm knew enough about drugs and his own body to immediately notice that something was very wrong. He needed to keep calm.

The cup was set back down carefully, despite his now noticeably shaky hand. He looked over in time to see Mr. David slump over and fall to the ground. Motionless. He looked up to see his father viewing him intently, eyebrows raised, waiting to see what his reaction would be.

“Would you excuse me for a minute, it appears someone has slipped something in our coffee.” 

A wide grin spread across Martin’s face. 

“Ha, well it’s a bit more complicated and clever than that but i’m not one to brag.”

Malcolm didn’t make any further eye contact with his Father as he tried to make his way towards the door. It wasn’t conducive to getting out. He needed to warn the other guards before it was too late. 

A few steps in and his legs faltered causing him to stumble onto his hands and knees, vision now blurring. His Father’s domineering laugh behind him became distant and echoey then the crashing sound of heavy chains falling to the ground, filled the room. Malcolm looked over to see his Father now standing chain free...doing jazz hands. 

“Ta-Dah!” 

Malcolm didn’t make a sound, didn’t move, frozen in fear where he lay.

Dr Whitly walked over the red line and bent down to view his prey more closely, savouring finally being able to get this close and touch his boy again after all these years. His voice was soft and calm as he knelt down next to him and placed his hand on his head. 

“Oh come now Malcolm, you are a such clever boy, you simply must have seen this day was coming sooner or later.” 

Martin moved his hand down and grasped his Son’s chin in his strong steady hand. Malcolm tried to pull away but his Father tightened his grip and examined his face closely, a Dr examining his patient. Yes, his Son’s eyes were indeed still lucid as suspected. It was a little annoying, a little inconvenient and a little surprising.

“I’m surprised you are still conscious Malcolm, and I must say as a world class Dr and your Father, it makes me a little concerned about your daily drug use.”

Malcolm groaned and tried to roll over, tried to get away from his Father’s vice like grip, away from his intense stare, away from this whole situation. His body felt heavy and his hand was shaking uncontrollably now, but he thinks he can still move, with effort, if he could just make it to the door, maybe he could get to a phone. 

Martin got up and peered through the small window in the cell door. 

“It appears everyone else is out for the count.” As he spoke he heard movement from behind and turned as Malcolm, who had taken the opportunity to pull himself off the ground for one last bid at freedom, screamed and threw the only weapon he had, himself, at him with all the force he had left inside him. 

There was a small scuffle but he was no match for Dr Whitly. His Father had clearly used his time in captivity to work out and he was now stronger and more powerful than ever. He grabbed Malcolm with ease and subdued him quickly, lowering him back to the floor. 

“Shhhhh, it’s okay Son.”

“Well, we must be off my boy, I’m afraid I can’t have you awake for the journey, you’re far too troublesome.” He playfully tweaked his Son’s nose and pulled a loaded syringe from his pocket. 

Malcolm panicked when he saw the needle.

“No....please don’t, I won’t be any trouble.” He knew he needed to be awake if he had any chance of escaping, any chance of figuring out where he was being taken so he could tell Gil.

“Oh Malcolm...I wish I could believe you my boy. Regaining that trust is something we will be working on, amongst other things of course.” 

Martin looked down at his beautiful boy, lying there so small and helpless, so troubled. Maybe it was his fault. But he would fix all of that now he was back to take care of him. He had spent a long time, since learning of all Malcolm’s complex problems, working out how he would fix his Prodigal Son. 

Malcolm flinched as his Father took his arm in a firm grip.

“Please don’t......please don’t....I need...” 

He was cut off as the newly injected drugs flooded his already weak and drug filled body. He felt The Surgeon’s strong powerful arms scoop him up, a memory of his Father carrying him up to bed when he was a child flashed through his mind before everything started to go dark. His last words a mere whisper.

“Please...Dad...please don’t put me in the box.....”


	2. Gone To Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm let out another scream at his imaginary torturers, fighting them as much as his restraints would allow.

Dr Whitly watched in his rear view mirror as Malcolm let out another scream at his imaginary torturers, fighting them as much as his restraints would allow. He found it to be both painful and fascinating viewing. This raw animalistic side of his Prodigal Son who when wakeful was so guarded, now laid bare before him. A troubled genius, they were two of a kind. Martin wondered if he featured in this particular night terror as he drove them deeper into the woods, further away from civilisation.

The sounds reminded him of how his many victims had wailed and screamed and fought before death. The memory sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. 

Malcolm awoke to consciousness with a violent jolt, kicking out at the car door and nearly falling off the back seat into the footwell in the process. Gasping for breath and desperately trying to piece together where he was and what was happening. 

In a few seconds he had gleamed the following:- his hands were tied behind his back and his legs were tied together. He was in a car. Lying down. The car was warm and moving. He on the other hand could not move. The skin under the ropes binding him hurt like hell, when he tried to move the pain it brought made him wince and he needed to bite down hard on his lip to stave off the need to call out in pain. There was music playing. Looking up he could just make out silhouetted trees passing by quickly. It was dark outside. His body ached from lying in the same position for a long time. He was sweating profusely. There was a smell, a familiar scent, his Father’s scent. He looked up to the driver and Martin turned and smiled at him.

“Malcolm my boy, you’re awake! Did you sleep well?” 

Malcolm didn’t reply.

“Ohhh I love this song” Martin turned the radio up deafeningly loud, drowning out any of Malcolm’s now wakeful shouts of protest at his current situation. 

“My child arrived just the other day  
He came to the world in the usual way  
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay  
He learned to walk while I was away  
And he was talking 'fore I knew it, and as he grew  
He'd say "I'm gonna be like you, dad"  
"You know I'm gonna be like you" 

The music was turned down momentarily, “I can’t hear you singing back there Malcolm!” 

Malcolm rolled his eyes, about the only part of him he could still move, overwhelmed at the unbelievable scene around him. He willed unconsciousness to take him once again, but of course it would not, so instead he lay there helplessly listening to his serial killer Father singing, wondering what he had in store for him and worrying about how Gil was coping with the news of his disappearance. 

Martin pulled up outside the cabin and switched off the engine. “Right you wait here Malcolm, and do try and be a good boy while I’m gone.”

Good, everything was in place just as he’d instructed. Food, clothes, medical supplies. He’d been very particular in his list of demands. His followers were both obedient and fearful so he wasn’t surprised everything was as he’d instructed but it was welcomed all the same given the beautiful challenge before him. Fixing Malcolm Whitly. 

Left alone in the car, Malcolm eventually gave up trying to free himself, realising it was futile, but not before his wrists were nearly rubbed down to the bone. He could feel blood dripping down onto his hands and pooling on the seat beneath him. He suspected his ankles were the same but he’d lost all feeling in his lower body long ago. 

When his Father returned sometime later he was unceremoniously dragged from the car into the cold night air. It was a stark contrast from the warm car and he shivered as his Father effortlessly threw him over his shoulder and carried him into the cabin. He considered protesting that he was quite capable of walking thank you very much, but he knew that wasn’t true at this point. 

Once inside he was placed down on a large bed which was oddly positioned in the centre of the room. From what he could see from his upside down view, the cabin was small, possibly comprising of just this one large room except for a door which he presumed led to a bathroom of some sort. He didn’t feel like he had been here before but he couldn’t be sure. 

Martin’s eyes were drawn away from his Son, now safely deposited on the bed, to an alarmingly large fresh blood stain which now adorned his own white shirt. 

“Malcolm, you’re bleeding.” 

“I’m fine, it’s nothing.” Dammit, he’d planned not to speak to his Father at all if he could help it. Well that plan was out the window now! 

“Well, it’s clearly not nothing.” Martin gestured to the large patch of blood on his shirt before leaving the room, retuning moments later and perching on the side of the bed behind Malcolm, just out of his sight line. 

“Please don’t touch me.” 

“Oh don’t be so dramatic Malcolm, I need to clean and dress those wounds or you’ll get an infection.”

No warning this time. Just a small scratch and then nothing.

Martin carefully cut away Malcolm’s crumpled blood stained suit and removed the ropes that bound him. The wounds on his ankles and wrists were cleaned with care and crisp white bandages placed over the top. In place of the smart grey three piece suit, which was now in at least ten pieces and in the bin, Malcolm was now dressed in comfortable dark jogging bottoms and a well fitted short sleeved white T-Shirt. He placed Malcolm beneath the soft clean covers of the bed before securing his wrists in the well padded restraints that were attached to the sides, hopefully they would ensure no further damage would be done to his arms over the next few days.

In no time at all a roaring fire was ignited in the large and rustic open fireplace and the kitchen was brought back to life after years of laying dormant. The smell of good food and warmth soon filled the cabin. Martin stepped back to view the scene, yes, very homely. Good.

He pulled the IV drip from the corner of the room and inserted the needle into Malcolm’s arm, adding a further bandage to prevent it being pulled out, before attaching a bag of clear liquid to the other end. He pressed a few buttons and left the machine to do it’s work as he went back to the kitchen area to finish off preparing dinner. 

After checking that all the windows and doors were locked Martin finally sat down in a comfy brown armchair that was strategically placed between the fire and Malcolm. His first meal as a free man didn’t disappoint and it was all washed down with a large glass of ridiculously expensive red wine. He was tired after the long drive and allowed himself to drift off to sleep in the chair for a bit, Malcolm would be awake soon and he needed to recharge his batteries. 

When Malcolm awoke he felt clean and warm. He tried to rub his eyes but his hands were stopped just short of their target...restrained in bed...was he at home? He couldn’t hear Sunshine. He opened his eyes and saw he was in the cabin.....so it hadn’t been a bad dream. 

A clicking noise sounding above him alerted him to the fact he was connected to an IV drip. 

“What are you giving me?” The question roused his Father from his sleep. 

“Just a standard saline drip, we’ll need it to keep you hydrated during our first task. His Father eyed him, like he should know what the first task was, he didn’t. He was confused. 

“Wine tasting....?” Malcolm offered it up in hopeful anticipation. 

“No Malcolm my boy, we need to cleanse you of all those nasty pills everyone, including your Mother, has insisted on pumping you full of over the years. I’ve seen enough addicts in my time to know you’re very much in the early stages of withdrawal.”


	3. Purified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Malcolm thought his situation couldn’t get any worse it descended into new depths of hellishness.

“Well, you’re wrong actually.” 

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Excessive sweating?”

“I’m in a bed next to a fire so....”

“Muscle aches?”

“You try being tied up and dumped in the back of a car for a day!”

“Anxiousness.......palpitations?”

“For Christ’s sake, YOU DRUGGED AND KIDNAPPED ME! 

“Irritable......agitated, I could go on.”

“Please don’t!”

“Right, well, I’ll be just over there catching up with some reading in case you should start to experience any of those things and need my help.”

Martin made his way over to a small desk in the coroner of the room and settled down to read. 

“I don’t need you okay, I was doing just fine....I AM doing just fine!” He lied, he was far from fine. Fine had gotten up, kissed him goodbye and waltzed out the cabin door hours ago but he’d rather die than admit he needed his Father. 

Hours passed and time began to lose all meaning. Another cramp swelled in his stomach. He closed his eyes, concentrating hard on his breathing until the pain rose up and took his breath away completely. The taste of his own blood strong in his mouth as he bit down on his lip to prevent himself from calling out for help. He desperately needed to get up, to move, to breathe. It felt like every cell in his body was screaming at him to take action, to take his blasted pills. 

Just when Malcolm thought his situation couldn’t get any worse it descended into new depths of hellishness. He fought the covers off onto the floor using his legs, forgetting about the wrist restraints he tried to get up but was pulled back down onto the bed like a recoiling spring. 

The sudden movement drew a smile from his Father who glanced up from his book to see what the commotion was. His Son was going to great lengths to conceal the extent of his withdrawal, and thus the extent of his drug dependency from him. His opinion of him was obviously still very important to Malcolm and that would be a useful tool in the months to come. 

Malcolm shot him a look, aware he was being studied, even in his semi delirious state. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you, watching me suffer. Just because I....”

He was prevented from finishing his sentence as yet another wave of pain engulfed him without warning and he was forced to cry out, arching his back up away from the bed until it finally passed. He was drenched in sweat from head to toe and shaking uncontrollably.

“I....I need to go to the bathroom....I’m gonna be sick.”

Martin placed his book down and quickly came over to remove the wrist restraints, content that Malcolm was too far gone to try and escape in his current state. His helping hand was pushed away in favour of sliding off the bed into a heap on the floor and then slowly crawling along the floor in the vague direction of the bathroom door.

He had successfully made it at least halfway across the room before he decorated the ground beneath him in sick. Coming to the realisation that continuing his journey to the bathroom was somewhat pointless now, Malcolm allowed himself to collapse down and roll over onto his back stretched out on the wooden floor. His breathing was rapid and shallow.....he wondered fleetingly if this was what dying felt like.

“Maybe you should...should just....kill me now......consider it..a mercy killing.”

His Father’s face quickly came into view, hovering over him briefly before slowly morphing into Gil’s face smiling down at him. Gil’s kind eyes immediately took Malcolm in, making him feel special and safe, just as they did each and every single time he’d looked at him since they’d met. Malcolm was pretty sure he was hallucinating but he smiled back all the same, it was so good to see Gil’s face. “Hey kiddo, how you holding up?” 

“I....need your help.” It was hardly audible as Malcolm closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek, but Gil must have heard as seconds later he felt a mask being placed over his face and fresh air filled his lungs, a careful hand was placed on his forehead as fingers felt his neck for a pulse. There was a voice in the distance telling him it would take the edge off before a small scratch on his arm dimmed the pain and finally allowed him to pass out. 

Martin worked quickly to stabilise Malcolm, my word the kid was stubborn. More stubborn than he thought. The boy would certainly need a strong hand during the next task, but for now he needed care and that’s what he would give him, because he was a good Father and soon Malcolm would realise that too.


	4. Runnin’ Down a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm blinked hard as fresh blood flowed into his eyes from his head wound, trying to clear his vision.

“Bright, stop!”

Malcolm didn’t look back, he just kept running.

“Dammit!”

Gil raced after him, calling out his name followed closely by Dani then JT just a few steps behind.

JT broke away to the left through the trees while Gil and Dani kept him firmly in their sights.

“I’ll go around, see if I can head him off.”

The woodland floor was scattered with rocks and fallen branches which made running through it at speed in the fading light difficult. Malcolm however seemed unfazed by the terrain and was gaining ground with every minute that passed.

Moments later he skidded to a halt as JT suddenly emerged from behind a tree, arms outstretched ready to ensnare him, causing him to fall to the floor with a thud. He quickly righted himself and turned to run back the way he’d come but it was now blocked by a panting Gil.

“Whoa.....easy now Son, take it easy.”

Malcolm was covered in dirt and a nasty wound on the left side of his head had decorated half of his face a deep crimson. Panic etched all over his face, his wild eyes darted between them desperately searching for a means of escape. His breathing was heavy and laboured from the chase but at least they now had him surrounded.

“It’s okay Son.” Gil took a slow step forwards toward Malcolm who in turn took a step back keeping his panic filled eyes on Gil as he moved, they continued like this until Malcolm’s back was pressed up against the tree JT had hidden behind moments before. Malcolm blinked hard as fresh blood flowed into his eyes from his head wound, trying to clear his vision.

“Please don’t try and r...” JT was interrupted as Malcolm made his move, trying to push his way through the baracade before multiple hands were grabbing him, holding him, trying to subdue him. He screamed, a loud heartfelt scream that echoed through the trees simultaneously sending all birds flying out of them in fright.

“Do you want me to knock him out?” Gil glared at JT in response to the suggestion as they continued to grapple with Malcolm.

Gil eventually manoeuvred himself behind Malcolm and used his larger frame to grab one of his arms just after it had successfully secured a hard punch to JT’s jaw. “Son of a bitch.” JT and Dani then helped him secure his other flailing arm before he pulled Malcolm to the ground, forming a human straight jacket with his arms around him. He spoke softly and calmly into his ear not knowing if the kid could even hear him. “You’re safe Malcolm. I’ve got you Son, I’ve got you.”

Malcolm continued to struggle kicking his legs, trying to buck away and wrestle himself free with every ounce of strength he had left in him but Gil just held him tighter still, until he finally went limp in his arms.

Gil awoke from yet another vivid dream about finding Malcolm. Every time he’d closed his eyes since he’d been taken he’d dreamt of him, dreamt of finding him. 

Stills from the CCTV cameras at Claremont showing Malcolm being carried outside and placed in the backseat of a white SUV by The Surgeon, before they vanished into thin air, were spread out over his desk in front of him. 

Dani appeared with a fresh coffee in time to see Gil wipe a single tear from his cheek.

“You shouldn’t of let me sleep.”

“You need sleep Gil, we all do.”

“I can’t, I won’t rest until we find my boy and bring him home.”


	5. Playing Happy Families

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how normal families spend time together, not us, we’re not normal.

Malcolm awoke feeling clean and refreshed - the smell of good coffee and fried food filled the room and for the first time in a long time he felt a deep pang of hunger. He looked over his shoulder to see his Father busy in the kitchen. 

“How long have I been out?” His voice was quite, almost a whisper, but his Father detected it instantly over the radio and usual kitchen noise and hurried over to see to his Son.

“Agh, Malcolm my boy you’re awake, at last!” 

He lent down, removing the restraints and extracting the IV line quickly and efficiently. Malcolm rubbed his arm where the needle had been, glad to be free of it but also grateful for it having kept him alive the last few days. 

His Father stood over him as he spoke, calmly but firmly.” The doors and windows are all locked and I have a taser in my pocket so don’t try anything.” His manor changed from menacing to light and cheery in an flash. “Except my wonderful breakfast of course!”

Malcolm got up carefully and slowly made his way over to the small wooden table separating the kitchen area from the main living area, grateful to finally reach the chair and sit down, feeling slightly dizzy from the exertion. 

There was no denying his Father was an excellent cook. Martin brought the final plated offering to the table and set it down before taking the seat opposite Malcolm, pleased as he took in the fruits of his labour. 

“Don’t be shy, dig in, you haven’t eaten in days.” 

Malcolm helped himself to eggs, bacon, mushrooms and pancakes all washed down with fresh coffee and juice. 

Malcolm watched his Son with pride. He would be the first to admit that he had never been able to feel empathy and love on any normal scale but Malcolm was certainly as close as he’d ever come to understanding what other people felt. “Good to see you’ve got your appetite back.”

Breakfast passed mainly in awkward silence but when they’d finished Malcolm offered to help clear, anything not to be strapped back down on the bed again. 

As they stood there in the cabin side by side, Martin washing, Malcolm, tea towel in hand, waiting to dry they would have looked to anyone peering through the window like any normal Father and Son. 

When they’d finished clearing up Malcolm stood by the sink, leaning heavily on the counter side for support, he suddenly felt weak and light headed as he cautiously waited for instructions on what would happen next. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Come on, we’ve been cooped inside for long enough, lets go outside for some fresh air, maybe a light run? We need to build your strength back up.”

Although initially hesitant given his inability to walk yet, let alone run, Malcolm soon realised it was a much needed opportunity to check out the wider area and effect his escape before Martin had chance to reveal what he had planned for him next. 

Sensing his hesitance Marin fetched a bundle of clothes from a side table. “Look, I got us matching tracksuits.”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you doing this?” 

I’m trying to spend some quality time together.”

“This is how normal families spend time together, not us, we’re not normal.”

“Oh Malcolm who wants to be normal, it’s so overrated, so boring!”

Martin retrieved a pair of handcuffs from the desk draw, there was a metre long chain separating the cuffs. “Just in case you get any ideas about running off.”

Malcolm scoffed. “Won’t it look a bit suspicious if anyone sees us? Two men in matching grey tracksuits, chained together, out for a run?”

“Oh Malcolm, you are funny!” Now put your tracksuit on and secure one of your wrists into these. Martin waved a playful accusatory finger at him. “And I’ll be checking it’s tight.”

Track suit on and now securely handcuffed to his Father, Malcolm stepped outside for the first time in nearly a week. He felt light headed at all the new activity and sudden rush of fresh air but didn’t let it show. He had work to do, he needed to find a way out of here, he needed to get back to Gil. 

It was cold and misty. The sun was still rising sending beams of light between tall black silhouetted trees which surrounded them. Deep in the woods the only sound to be heard was the magnificent birdsong that played around them. It was beautiful. Without the drugs in his system and a good nights sleep Malcolm felt the closest he’d felt to being alive in along time. 

They ran thorough the woods at a steady pace but Malcolm’s limbs quickly tired and Martin could feel more frequent tugs on the chain that bound them together as Malcolm became progressively clumsy and uncoordinated in his steps. 

“Need to head back Son?” Martin questioned, not even slightly out of breath or exerted by the run. 

“M, fine.” Malcolm just managed to get the nearly inaudible words out between quickened breaths before he tripped again, this time falling to the floor and almost pulling Martin down with him. 

“You look fine.” 

Martin helped Malcolm back to his feet, keeping a supportive hand around his waist before Malcolm pulled away as far as the chain would allow. “I’m fine, I can make it back home.” 

“Home?”

“The cabin, I can make it back to the cabin.”

The routine over the next few days was largely the same, building Malcolm’s strength up with regular meals and frequent runs that got longer and faster each day. They would talk sometimes, nothing too deep, Malcolm wanted to avoid invoking his Father’s tempter while he was still so vulnerable.

Malcolm lay in bed, his eyes still closed pretending to be asleep while he put the final touches to a plan he’d been formulating in his mind over the last few days. Today was the day he would leave this place. He was mentally and physically ready to make his escape. 

He was drying the last of the breakfast things before their morning run when he heard his Father come up behind him. He turned just as a sharp pain engulfed the whole right hand side of his body immediately paralysing him with brutal force. He jolted violently as he fell to the floor, looking up helplessly at his Father who stood over him smiling, taser in hand.

“You can’t keep me here forever!” Another jolt from the taser, in the leg this time, prevented him from shouting anything else while he worked through the pain. 

Martin pulled a cloth from his pocket and laced it with a generous dose of chloroform. 

“Please....you have to let me go.”

“Sorry Malcolm, I’ve enjoyed these last few days, I really have, but we need to push on with the next task......now be a good boy and breath for Daddy.”


	6. The Road To Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re not going anywhere Malcolm, not this time.

“There have been reports filed for three missing persons all centred around this area over the last two weeks. Obviously in the City that wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary but it sends up red flags in a place like this.”

Dani pointed to a dense woodland area on a large map spread out over Gil’s desk. “It might not be connected but the last person taken this morning was reported missing by his Parents when he didn’t show up for a camping trip. They tracked his phone and it lost signal here. It’s a few hours drive from the Highway, very secluded. His Parents were meant to meet him here.” She gestured to a different location just off the main Highway. 

Gil studied map. “It’s a bit of a long shot don’t you think, firstly that they are all connected and then that they are connected with Malcolm....I know his Father took him camping before his arrest but even so....”

JT came into the room. “Yeah we thought so too but we asked all the local garages in that area to check their CCTV around the time Malcolm was abducted.” He held up a grainy image of a garage forecourt. “And look what just came through.”

Gil’s heart almost stopped at the sight of it.

“It’s the white SUV.” He allowed himself a second to compose himself before grabbing his keys and rushing for the door. “Dani grab the map. Hold on Malcolm, we’re coming to get you Son!”

Meanwhile back at camp.....

Malcolm awoke with a jolt as his Father’s exasperated tone filled his ears once again. He lifted his head from the cold, wet woodland floor, eyes blinking, confused and shivering.

“Malcolm! If you keep passing out like this we are going to be stuck out here all night, now pick up the scalpel...”

He eventually managed to pull himself back up to a kneeling position. It was cold, raining hard and the light was fading. The trees provided some shelter from the elements but not enough. All he had on was tracksuit bottoms and a mud stained t-shirt. No shoes or socks. 

He was knelt next to a bound and gagged man who was wearing even less than him. To Malcolm’s relief the poor soul had finally lost consciousness, possibly from the cold or the shear terror of the situation or a combination of the two. At least he was now blissfully unaware of what was happening. Malcolm wished he could join him but his Father was relentless in ensuring that he stay on task as he stood over them both, watching, smiling.

His hand shook as he reached for the fallen scalpel, half from fear half from the increasing wind that caused the rainfall to turn to ice before it lashed against his exposed skin. 

“I can’t..I...my hands are too cold.” 

It was true but also yet another delaying tactic. He’d given up on any fanciful ideas of being rescued long ago, but he’d taken down The Surgeon once before and he prayed he could do it again.

“What do you mean you can’t?!” Martin was growing more impatient with every moment that passed. 

“For Christ’s sake Malcolm, he’s going to die of exposure soon, and then it won’t count, and I’ll have to go and find another poor soul to take his place. Is that what you want?!”

“Please let him go, I’m begging you, I’ll do anything, anything you want.”

“This IS what I want Malcolm, the ONLY thing I want, it’s what I’ve wanted for twenty years and you WILL kill him.”

“I’m not like you. I can’t do it.”

“Of course you’re like me, you are my Son, I made you! We are the same.” 

Martin suddenly lunged forward clasping his Son’s hand firmly in his, guiding, coercing, slowly pushing the knife towards the bare chest of the man stretched out before them, as he growled into Malcolm’s ear. 

“Maybe I should have brought Ainsley here instead. She might like to accompany me on my next trip. I don’t want to be accused of having favourites after all.”

Malcolm felt a rush of anger and with it a surge of renewed energy at the thought of his Sister ending up in the same hell hole of a situation. 

With his new found strength he sent a well aimed elbow backwards winding Martin momentarily and giving himself enough time to get to his feet and make a run for it, clearly forgetting about his ankle chain. It pulled tight, abruptly thwarting his escape attempt and pulling him to the ground after a few clumsy barefooted steps. The other end of the chain was wrapped about the tree trunk and secured with a padlock. He got up and frantically pulled at the chain with all his might but it didn’t budge. 

“Aghhhh.....dammit.”

Martin laughed. “You’re not going anywhere Malcolm, not this time.”

Their eyes met. His Father’s whole face was lit up with monstrous glee.

“You know, it really doesn’t need to be this hard Son. All it takes is a couple of strokes and it will be done.” 

Malcolm got to his feet again, sobbing heavily. Something caught his eye and he realised it was the scalpel still on floor where he’d dropped it, he grabbed it and held it to his own neck. 

It stopped Martin dead in his tracks. “Malcolm what are you doing? Give me the scalpel.”

“I won’t kill that man.” He pushed the blade in slightly and felt a sharp sting followed by a trail of blood trickling down his neck. 

“Malcolm.......Malcolm don’t you dare!”

Malcolm composed himself slightly but his eyes were still filled with tears.

“I won’t ever be like you. I’d rather die.” 

He pushed the scalpel in further and felt more blood begin to flow. 

“Now either throw me the key to the padlock or watch your Prodigal Son bleed out and die here on the floor. Whilst I may not be eager to inflict pain on others, I am very well versed on inflicting it on myself.”

A sudden loud groan from the bound man distracted Malcolm for a moment allowing Martin to lunge forward and pull him to the ground as they wrestled for control of the scalpel. As they tussled Martin was caught by the blade a few times but he was stronger than Malcolm and his larger frame towered over Malcolms giving him the edge.

“Stop resisting me Malcolm, you are only making things worse for yourself.” 

Malcolm received a deep gash to the side of his head as his arms were pushed down and the scalpel in his hand cut into him, the fresh flow of blood poured down his rain soaked face and into eyes blinding him completely. The scalpel was quickly snatched from his cold wet fingers. He was exhausted. 

Martin regained his footing and assessed his own wounds, quickly gleaning that thankfully they were just superficial. He grabbed Malcolm’s shirt collar roughly hauling him half way up before using his own muddy and blood stained jacket to wipe some of blood from his Son’s eyes. 

He was shouting now, more angry then Malcolm had ever seen him before as he released his hold on his collar allowing him to fall back down to the ground. “Now you sit there Malcolm, you sit there, and you watch this man die, I’m going to make it all the more painful for him because you can’t manage to do as you are told.”

Martin ripped the victim’s gag off before he began so Malcolm could hear his unmuffled screams, his begging, his pleading for it to stop, for someone to save him please. But there is no one to help and no mercy was shown by The Surgeon. 

Malcolm didn’t know who was screaming louder, him or the poor soul being hacked to pieces in front of him. He felt like a little boy again and crawled behind the tree he was chained to, curling himself into a ball, bruising his ears as he dug his fingers in attempting to blockout out the screams only to be caught under the arms and roughly dragged back around and dumped back down on the floor by his Father’s feet. “I’m trying to teach you something here boy, so pay attention! 

When it was finally over and the screams died down Martin looked over at Malcolm as he removed his gloves and smiled. He was out of breath slightly and covered in blood, most of it not his own. 

“Don’t look so worried my boy, it will get easier with time.” Martin looked around at the scene before him. Not quite as he’d planned it to go, far messier and overcharged than his previous murders, but his Son was of course passionate and wilful and predictably unpredictable as always. 

“Right well, we’d best get cleaned up, I don’t know about you but I’m hungry.”

Malcolm rolled over and unceremoniously emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor, continuing to gag long after he’d lost everything inside him. 

He looked round to see his Father approaching with a needle in his hand and crawled backwards towards the partial shelter of the tree, suddenly feeling a large rock under his fingers. 

“Come on now Malcolm, we can do this the easy way or the hard way but it will be my way. We need to get cleaned up, I’ve invited an old friend over to join us for dinner, you may remember him from our camping trip. If he sees all this blood..well let’s just say he might get a little over excited and who knows what might happen then.”

Malcolm scooped up the large rock in his hand and swung it around as Martin came forwards to administer the sedative, the impact was brutal and on point causing his Father’s eyes to roll back instantly before he fell to the floor motionless. He grabbed the needle from his Father’s hand and frantically plunged the contents into his closest arm to buy some more time. 

Panic washed over every inch of him, he needed to get away before he Father came to but his fingers refused to work quickly as he tried to locate the key to the padlock in his Father’s pockets. 

‘Fuck, oh fuck...where’s the key.’ It was a thought rather than spoken words. Martin’s pockets were empty, there was no key.....nothing. He quickly removed his Father’s shoes and let out a involuntary cry of relief as a small key fell from one of them and successfully released his ankle chain, after much frantic fumbling.

Malcolm ran back along the track towards the Cabin without looking back, his eyes were so covered in blood he almost did it without looking forwards too. He needed to find the keys to the SUV and get the hell out of here. All before he passed out from blood loss, died of exposure, or before his Father came round and his dinner guest arrived.


	7. Wake me up, when today ends.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps it was better that Malcolm was blissfully unaware.

When Malcolm finally found himself back at the Cabin, he was confused and disorientated. He stumbled forwards and pulled at the door handle finding it locked, of course it was locked, it didn’t surprise him, nothing in his life was ever easy. His Father certainly didn’t have any other keys on him, he’d searched every inch of him, well nearly every inch. 

Another wave of lightheadedness washed over him almost sending him to the floor. He was so cold now he couldn’t even remember what decision he was trying to make let alone make it. He thought hard, yes that was it, he had to get away, but how? Should he spend precious time trying to break into the cabin in the hope of finding the car keys or just make his escape now on foot through the woods while he was still conscious and had the chance. It wouldn’t be long before his Father came looking for him. And where was Gil, why wasn’t he looking for him, didn’t he know he needed him?!

A sound from behind him stopped him mid thought, his breathing stopped, could he hear his Father coming after him now? Shouting his name? He ducked behind a tree and listened more closely, poised for action. No, breath....breath..it was just the howling wind playing tricks on him. 

Decision made, he needed to try and use the car. He was already freezing, possibly even in the early stages of hypothermia, and he had no idea when or where he would find help out in the woods. He knew he wouldn’t last long on foot in these conditions. 

Malcolm used a rock to smash a small hole in the cabin window and then an old log to remove most of the shattered glass, allowing him to crawl through without being torn to pieces although his efforts still earned him a few more cuts on his hands and legs. 

Once inside he searched his Father’s desk, hurriedly pulling the draws out and dumping the contents all over the floor. No keys, but he did find some bandages which enabled him to fashion a rudimentary headband in an attempt to stem the bleeding from his head wound.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he eventually felt the car key taped underneath a kitchen draw, enough time to have ransacked most of the room. There was no time to feel relief, he grabbed the key and stumbled back outside to the SUV. 

Malcolm only allowed himself to breath as he drove further away from the Cabin, relaxing slightly as he put more distance between himself and his Father. His eyes felt heavy and he was shaking. The bumps on the dirt track tried to lull him to sleep but he needed to fight it, to stay awake long enough to find help and to call Gil. 

Suddenly there were car lights coming round the corner towards him. Blinding him and pushing him off the road, the SUV left the narrow track and careered down a small ditch smashing head on into a large tree. The whole front end crumpled on impact, windscreen smashing, air bags inflating, all around steam and smoke was gushing out from under the crumpled bonnet. 

Malcolm couldn’t hear the loud continuous sounding of the car horn blasting through the silence of the forest, he was out cold. 

The door was pulled open from the outside with difficulty, the metal contorted from the crash. A tall figure leaned in the car, pulling off the blood soaked makeshift bandage to fully reveal the occupant’s face. A fresh line of blood travelled down his face. 

“Well look what we have here, little Malcolm all alone out in the woods without Daddy.” 

Malcolm was pulled roughly from the wreckage without any thought spared for possible injuries sustained in the crash. He was quickly hoisted over a broad shoulder without protest and then dumped into the trunk of the car that had run him off the road. 

Perhaps it was better that Malcolm was blissfully unaware that he was being taken straight back to the Cabin. 

When Malcolm started to come round sometime later he found himself to be tied firmly to a chair. A quick test found that his arms were tied together behind him and also secured to the back of the chair and his legs were each tied separately to the corresponding front chair legs rendering him immobile. Only his head was free to lull about, and it did. A unexpected slap to the head brought him fully back to the room. 

“Where’s your Father little Malcolm? 

Malcolm coughed and spat out some of the blood that had accumulated in his mouth. 

“Where..am.” He didn’t need to finish as it suddenly dawned on him that he was somehow back in the bloody cabin. He couldn’t remember how he’d got there, not that it mattered. He was almost ready to give up and accept his fate when another slap interrupted his despair. 

“Where is your Father Malcolm?” 

His silence earned him another slap, harder this time, nearly knocking the chair over. 

Malcolm groaned and leaned forward as far as the restraints would allow. 

“Have you killed him.....little Malcolm? 

More silence. 

“You don’t remember me do you?” 

Malcolm winced as he looked up cautiously to look at the man’s face, expecting to be hit again at any moment. “Should I?”

“Oh very much so. In fact I still owe you something from the last time we met, but I’ll give it to you later...” 

The stranger put on his coat and took a flashlight from the pocket, blinding Malcolm as he turned it on and shone the bright light directly into his eyes. “.....first I need to follow that blood trail you’ve helpfully left outside. I’m thinking it might lead me straight to your dear old Dad, dead or alive.” 

And with that he left. 

Gil was driving his car angsty and fast, it felt good after two weeks of inaction, Dani sat beside him clutching the map, JT was in the back fidgety and restless. They’d been on the road for hours, mostly in silence. The local sheriff’s department had been notified and would be providing backup. 

Gil nearly swerved off the road as the silence was shattered by JT suddenly shouting from the seat behind him, right into his ear. 

“Oh shit, look, it’s the SUV. Down there.”

Gil skidded to a halt and they all scrambled out the car to descend on the wreckage, guns drawn, hearts pounding. 

The drivers side door was open, all the air bags had been deployed, they were all bright white, except the one sagging from the steering wheel which was plastered in blood. The car was empty. 

They all clocked the blood immediately. Dani was the first to speak. “Maybe Martin crashed on the way here and they carried on on foot? It might not be Malcolm’s blood.” 

JT followed the skid marks left by the SUV back up to the track. “No, it was travelling the other way, away from where Billy Graham’s phone lost signal.”

Dani thought for a moment. “Maybe Bright tried to escape?”

Gil’s worried face turned to Dani. “It certainly looks like a possibility.”

“But where is he now? He could be out there someone in the woods....injured....or....” Dani didn’t finish, it was more than she could bear to think about. 

JT was glad to offer up some hope. “I don’t think this happened that long ago, it all looks fresh, including the blood.”

“Look there’s more here!” Dani moved up the embankment, looking for more spots. “And again here.” 

They all searched the floor, it was hard to see anything in the dark but Gil’s headlights helped. “Looks like they trail stops here, by these other track marks.” 

JT studied the tyre marks. “Looks like whoever picked him up was travelling the way we’re heading.”

Gil rubbed a hand over his forehead, visibly troubled by his thoughts. “You mean it looks like someone pulled him out of the car and took him right back to where he was running away from.”

JT clapped his hands together bringing them all back to the present. “Well, lets not stand around here having a pity party, let’s go get our boy back.” 

Gil managed a small smile. “Amen to that.”


	8. Rescue me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don’t look so worried little Malcolm.

Despite his best efforts all Malcolm managed to achieve in the time the stranger was away was to tip the chair over, taking himself with it. He braced for the inevitable impact shortly before his left shoulder and the side of his head collided painfully with the floor.

The force caused the edges of his vision to darken for a moment as consciousness threatened to leave him once again. He fought hard to control his breathing through chattering teeth, he was so cold. Mainly because his clothes were still soaking wet from being outside in the rain hours earlier and the cabin provided little protection from the elements. 

Malcolm heard the door open and close behind him and footsteps approach before the stranger appeared by his side carrying Martin’s limp form over his shoulder. 

Malcolm’s efforts to control his breathing were futile now as he descended into a full blown panic attack on seeing his Father again. The stranger looked down and laughed at the sight as he passed by to place Martin on the bed. 

“Don’t look so worried little Malcolm, he’ll be fine.” 

He made no attempt to pull Malcolm upright as he made his was back towards the kitchen area choosing instead to leave him gasping for air on the floor. 

“Still haven’t outgrown the panic attacks then I see.” 

Moments later the stranger appeared in front of him once again but this time he was clutching a large hunting knife in his hand. 

Malcolm’s eyes grew wide with fear at two things his current position gave him sight of, the stranger looming over him holding a knife and just behind, out of the stranger’s view, his Father coming round and silently sitting up on the bed.

“I...I just can’t seem...to...to catch a break!”

“Appears so little Malcolm, and now it’s time for me to settle a little score from the last time we met.” 

Malcolm locked eyes with his Father just as the blade was plunged deep into the right hand side of his torso. Malcolm gasped in disbelief as his brain tried to process what was happening. It seemed like a long time had passed before he finally heard himself scream and he wondered briefly in that time if any of this was real. However the wave of pain that followed left him in no doubt and he called out again as the knife was pulled out. 

Everything happened in slow motion from that point on. He saw the stranger lift up the knife preparing to stab him again as he lay there helplessly unable to move. 

Behind the stranger, he saw his Father leap off the bed and rush towards them. Malcolm closed his eyes unsure of which one of them his Father was coming to help.

He opened them again to see two large figures now locked in a fierce battle, he could hear angry shouts but the words were meaningless as he felt life flowing out of him and down onto the floor around him. His whole body which had been shaking uncontrollably for the last hour began to still. 

Blue and red flashing lights suddenly poured through the windows and filled the room like a disco and Malcolm thought how pretty they looked before gun shots rang out above him and the shouting grew louder with more voices joining the furore. He blinked hard trying to make sense of what was happening around him but with each blink opening his eyes became harder and harder until eventually there was nothing. 

Gil rushed across the room reaching Malcolm just in time to see his eyes roll back into his head, out cold. He cupped the bruised and bloodied face of his boy in his hands feeling for a pulse. “Malcolm, stay with me Malcolm.” It was very faint but there. It was hard to assess all the injuries but the most urgently in need of attention appeared to be the blood gushing from his side.

“JT where the hell is that ambulance?!”

“On it boss.” JT rushed from the room, phone to ear, visibly shocked by the sight of Malcolm and the extent of his injuries. 

“Dani get me something to cut these ropes.” 

Dani couldn’t take her eyes of Malcolm, he was almost unrecognisable. 

“Dani, I know it’s upsetting to see but I need you to help me untie him so I can lay him out and stop the bleeding.”

“There’s a knife over there.” Martin, now handcuffed and flanked by two offices, gestured to the knife that Paul had dropped after he was shot. 

“He’s been stabbed, you need to let me treat him.”

Gil called over to the officers. “Get him out of here!”

Martin pulled back as they tried to drag him out. “Gil, he doesn’t have any time left, I need to stop that bleeding. Let me save him.”

“Save him?” Gil scowled at Martin trying to control his rage. “You did this to him!”

“Don’t let your stubbornness kill my boy Gil, look at him, he’s dying. You know I’m the only one here that can save him now.”

Dani ran over to the kitchen area and found a knife that wasn’t crime scene evidence, passing it to Gil so he could release Malcolm from the chair. “Here Dani, help me lay him out out flat, I need to apply pressure to the wound.”

JT came rushing back in. “JT please give me some good news.” Blood seeped around Gil’s fingers and onto the floor under Malcolm. 

“Sorry boss, at least another 20 minutes away. They tried to arrange an air ambulance but there’s no where safe for them to land around here so they turned back.”

“Dammit!”

“He doesn’t need an ambulance Gil, he needs surgery and he needs it now!”

Gil looked at Martin knowing he was right. “What do you need us to do?”

“Get these cuffs off, pass me my bag over there under the desk, cut off his dirty wet clothes. I need to sterilise my hands. You’ll need to find something clean and warm to cover him or the shock will kill him before the loss of blood does.”

Gil started throwing out the orders. 

“Officers take off his handcuffs, if he tries to run, shoot him in the leg.”

“JT get Dr Whitly his bag.”

“Dani help me get Malcolm’s clothes off. You heard what he said people, we don’t have much time.”

Within minutes Malcolm was stripped down to his boxers. 

“Clear all the things from my desk, lay this sheet over it and put Malcolm on it. I’ll need the IV line from over there by the bed.”

JT and Dani prepared the ‘operating table’ while Gil stayed protectively close to Malcolm. He removed his own jumper and jacket to cover Malcolm as best he could but the kid was still deathly cold. 

“JT, give me your jacket.” JT shot Gil a quick look before taking off his jacket and handing it over. 

“Here use this to.” Dani took off hers and laid it over Malcolm’s legs. 

“How sweet, if I had a jacket I would surely do the same. Now if you could all move back, and if you are squeamish I’d advise you to look away now. Gil would you be so kind as to keep an eye on his vitals.”

“Tell me what I need to do.”

“No fancy machines I’m afraid, just keep your finger on his pulse and listen to his breathing and if either stops, let me know.”

Nobody spoke as Martin worked to stop the internal bleeding. 

“There that should do it. I’m just going to glue the outside wound closed for now but tell the Dr treating him at the hospital that they’ll need to clean everything again and put in proper stitches. In fact just have them give me a call before they do anything.”

The ambulance finally arrived just as Martin was finishing up and Malcolm was carefully moved from the desk onto a waiting stretcher before being covered in a trauma blanket and placed on oxygen. 

Martin called over as he was led from the room back in handcuffs. “Be careful what you let them give him for the pain, my Son’s recently gone through quite a difficult withdrawal and is no longer dependent on drugs to function, I’d prefer it if we kept it that way Gil.....oh and Gil please do call and let me know how he is.”

Gil didn’t reply but gave a nod in agreement. 

“JT, Dani, I want a full report of what happened here. When you’ve finished up you can take my car. I need to go with Malcolm in the ambulance.”

“Sure thing boss. We’ll meet you at the hospital”


	9. Returned To Sender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s a tough kid, always has been.

In the ambulance Gil waited patiently while the medic hooked Malcolm up to various machines and checked his vitals. He took one of two small seats in the corner of the ambulance and tried not to get in the way while the other man did his work. 

Adrenaline raced through his veins and he wanted to pace up and down demanding answers but instead he sat calmly and kept his gaze firmly fixed on Malcolm’s unresponsive bloodied face.

The medic eventually finished what he needed to do and started to make some notes. 

“How’s he doing?” Gil asked.

“He seems to be holding his own for now but we need to get him to hospital as soon as possible. He’s very lucky there was a surgeon there to help out.”

“Yeah, real lucky.” Gil added with a hint of sarcasm as he reached over and carefully took Malcolm’s hand in his. 

“He’s a tough kid, always has been. He’ll be alright.” 

When they reached the hospital, the back doors of the ambulance were flung open by a waiting orderly and the quiet and serene bubble of time he had enjoyed holding Malcolm’s hand and carefully studying his face was quickly replaced with the loud and busy hustle and bustle of the hospital. 

People were darting about, rushing here and there, machines were buzzing and beeping. Medics and doctors shouting and quickly swapping information and making plans regarding their newest arrival. 

Malcolm was pushed quickly through several sets of doors flanked by his new entourage who had all appeared at the same time hovering around his prone form as it was wheeled quickly through the corridors of the hospital. 

He looked so small and helpless and Gil just wanted to gather him up in his arms and make everything alright, like he had when Malcolm was a child.

When they reached the next set of doors Gil was asked to stay back but he didn’t hear and kept on following until a hand against his chest stopped him. Gil looked down at the hand and then quickly up to the face of the young man it belonged to. 

“Sorry Sir.....you’ll have to wait out here.”

Gil thought about flashing his badge (or his gun) but instead he nodded and watched Malcolm disappear from view as the double doors swung closed with a bang. Instead he took out his phone, took a deep breath and dialled Jessica. 

After he’s finished the call he paced up and down the hallway in an attempt to burn off some pent up energy, still feeling like a spare wheel and looking up whenever the doors swung open, hoping it was someone to give him some news. It seemed like hours had passed when a Dr finally appeared. 

“Lieutenant Arroyo?”

“Yes Dr.” 

“I’m Dr Burton.” 

Gil extended his hand. 

“How is he Dr?”

“Well we’ve cleaned and re-sealed the area where he was stabbed, and I must say whoever carried out the field surgery did an excellent job there. He needed quite a few stitches for his head trauma and there were also some deep lacerations to both his arms and legs that are being cleaned and dressed as we speak. In addition to the wounds, his body temperature was also dangerously low and he was in the early stages of shock but we’ve managed to stabilise that now.”

Dr Burton glanced at the notes in his hands before continuing. “Dehydrated and generally bruised and battered.....there were also slightly older injuries to his wrists and ankles that had started to heal, consistent with being tied up and trying to break free. I can’t of course comment on the psychological side of events leading up to this moment which will take a lot longer to diagnose and heal. Am I right in my understanding that he was kidnapped by his own Father?” 

Gil ran a hand over his face. “Yes something like that. I’m still waiting on a full de-brief from my team, but yes.”

We’ve accessed his medical notes online and I see he’s already under the care of a psychologist and has been since childhood.... Dr Burton glanced at the notes again. “And I also see he’s been taking quite a concoction of strong medications for quite some time.”

“Oh yes” Gil remembered what Martin had said. “He’s been off his meds for weeks now. If we can, I’d rather not see him go back on them, at least not all of them, if we can avoid it.” 

“Yes of course I understand. I see here that you are listed as his next of kin so we’ll be guided by you until he wakes up and he’s ready to make decisions for himself.”

Gil did his best to hide his surprise, I mean yes he’d always thought of Malcolm as his own flesh and blood, and he knew Malcolm was very fond of him but even so it was quite a revelation to see it now documented. Solidified in ink.

“We’ll need to carry out a full review once the dust has settled and we’ve spoken to Malcolm. In the meantime I would like to give him something to help him rest and to alleviate any discomfort, if that’s o.k with you?”

“Yes, of course. Can I see him now Dr?”

“Give me a few minutes, I’ll just go and check they’ve finished with him.”

A few minutes later, Dr Burton returned as promised and led Gil through the double doors and down a busy corridor to the small room where Malcolm was being kept. 

Dr Burton gesture for Gil to go in and then left. 

Gil walked over to the bed to look at Malcolm. 

Most of the blood had been cleaned off his face now revealing a noticeably bruised and swollen left cheek bone and a split bottom lip. The room was well heated and Malcolm was dressed in a hospital gown with his lower half covered in thick hospital blankets. He left hand was attached to a drip and a neat row of stitches now adorned the right side of his forehead disappearing up into his messy hair line. Large white bandages had been wrapped around both forearms. Gil could see his breath steam up the inside of the oxygen mask that still covered his nose and mouth with every steady breath he took. 

He certainly looked much more like Malcolm than the last time Gil had seen him. He was almost unrecognisable when they’d first burst through the cabin door guns drawn. Gil worked to push the image from his mind for now. There would be time to piece together and document what had happened when Dani and JT arrived later on. 

“Here.” Dr Burton appeared behind him and handed him a large mug of coffee. “Thought you could use this.”

Gil smiled, taking the mug and catching a whiff of the glorious rich smokey texture. 

“I sure could, that doesn’t smell like the hospital coffee I remember.” 

“It’s my own secret stash but don’t go telling anyone or you’ll start a stampede.” He looked down at his beeper which had just gone off. “I’ve got to go and welcome out next guest but I’ll be back to check in later. Ask one of the nurses to page me if you need me. Hopefully he should sleep for the next few hours anyway, he certainly needs the rest.” 

Gil nodded and raised his coffee in agreement and thanks, as Dr Burton hurried off, before settling into a visitors chair next to Malcolm’s bed. When a nurse came in sometime later to check the machines Gil decided to get up and stretch his dead legs.

“Excuse me ma’am, is there somewhere I can buy some candy from in the hospital.”

“Yes there’s a small shop on the ground floor, it might still be open or there’s a vending machine further down the corridor on the left.”

Gil thanked her and felt the need to clarify that the candy wasn’t for him because he was a proper grown up before he headed off in search of candy for when Malcolm woke up. 

As he made his way back towards Malcolm’s room Gil became aware of a commotion coming from further down the corridor. He quickened his pace and then broke into a run as the commotion increased and he suddenly realised it was Malcolm he could hear shouting.

“Let me go.....no don’t....please don’t....please don’t make me do it, don’t.....don’t make me....”

When Gil came rushing back into the room Malcolm continued to scream, eyes wide open filled with terror. He’d managed to push himself half way off the bed and was now trying to push past several nurses that had surrounded him to assist Dr Burton in his attempts to hold him down. 

“He’s going to tear his stitches.” One older nurse announced to the rest of the group with a hint of annoyance.

“You’re in the hospital, please calm down Malcolm.” Dr Burton spoke in a calm and professional manner but it had no effect on Malcolm. “Nurse please get me something to sedate him.”

“Please, you....you can’t keep me here, you can’t keep me here.”

Gil rushed over. 

On seeing Gil appear Dr Burton moved slightly to the side to allow Gil to slip between them and cup Malcolm’s face in his hands.

“Malcolm, Malcolm - look at me.” When Malcolm looked right past him with not even a flicker of recognition Gil realised what was happening. 

“He’s asleep, it’s a night terror, he’s asleep.”

He grabbed malcolm by the shoulders as gently as he could and pulled him into a hug, holding him tight and rubbing his back up and down to soothe him.

“Shhhhhhh Malcolm, it’s o.k, you’re alright, it’s just a dream......it’s just a bad dream.”

Everything about Gil, his familiar voice and smell, his whole calming Ora had an instant affect on Malcolm who went limp and leaned into the hug hiding his face into the space between Gil’s neck and broad shoulder. His frantic breaths became more controlled with each moment that passed before he eventually became still, peacefully back asleep in Gil’s arms. 

Dr Burton smiled as Gil carefully lowered Malcolm back onto the bed. 

“You look like you’ve done that before.”

“I have, but not for a very long time. Not since he was a child.”

The nurses gathered themselves together and left Gil and Dr Burton alone in the room with Malcolm.

Dr Burton checked that his stitches were all still in place before checking his vitals.

“Do you want me to give him another sedative?”

“No thank you Dr, that won’t be necessary. I’ll stay with him. I’ll be here when he wakes up.”

The good Dr looked at Gil and then down at Malcolm. “I can’t help but wonder what state he’ll be in when he wakes up.”

“You know what Dr, he’ll probably wake up, throw us a big smile, say he’s fine and try to walk out of here like nothing happened.”


	10. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trauma and candy - it’s kind of our thing.

The first thing Malcolm became aware of was a rhythmic beeping. A simple gentle beep somewhere not too far away. He concentrated on the beep which seemed to be holding back his full return to reality and the deluge of pain and anguish that would undoubtedly come with it.

The calm before the storm. 

After a while the beep was joined by the sound of whooshing air and the loud inhale and exhale of his own breath, he was alive then. That might or might not be a good thing depending on where he was. An overpowering smell of antiseptic hung in the air. 

A dull ache was the next thing to reach his consciousness and it spread quickly throughout his entire body. It appeared that there wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t hurt.

After taking a moment to acclimatise to the pain and to say a silent prayer not to still be in the cabin, he tentatively opened his eyes before the brightness of the room forced them closed again. 

Gil had risen from the chair he had positioned himself in next to Malcolm’s bed and leaned in closer when he’d noticed Malcolm’s breathing quicken. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he saw the younger man’s swollen eyes flicker open and closed.

The older man watched as Malcolm let out a long groan followed by muffled inaudible words that steamed up the inside of his oxygen mask. 

Panic set in quickly for Malcolm as vivid memories returned to him all jagged and raw. So much had happened since he’d taken that sip of tainted coffee and he didn’t know how to process any of it as it all rushed back to him. In addition, he still had no idea where he was or if he was still in danger.

Any attempt to move his limbs caused a searing pain down his right hand side and he suddenly remembered being stabbed. His body instinctively attempted to curl in on itself but it was quickly thwarted as two confident hands clamped down on his shoulders and gently pushed him back down. The hands remained in place even when his head reached the pillows and then a familiar voice filled his ears distracting him from the pain and banishing his worry. 

“Whoa now, Bright, settle down Son.”

Malcolm’s eyes flashed open again and met Gil’s, which were wrinkled around the edges in a smile. 

His hand shot out, needing to feel him and know that he was really here, that it wasn’t an hallucination. Gil let go of one of the younger man’s shoulders to clasped the outstretched hand in his own. 

“Hey kiddo, take it easy now, you’re in the hospital, you’re going to be fine.”

Malcolm’s free hand reached up and pulled down his oxygen mask and words spilled out in a rushed and rambled mess.

“He wanted me to....there was a man....I...didn’t. I watched him....I watched him do it.” His breathing pitched at the memory and more machines started to beep and go off around them. 

Dr Burton and two nurses rushed into the room on hearing the commotion.

His already dry throat closed up now and started a coughing fit. Malcolm called out as a flash of pain, possibly more painful than the actual stabbing itself, caused his vision to go white and his hearing to go. When his hearing returned he could here Gil saying something to him but it took a while to realise what.

“Hey.....hey.....drink this.”

A glass of water was pressed to his lips and he tried to take a sip in between ragged gasps of panicked breath.

“Do you want me to give him something to help calm him down?” Dr Burton offered as he came over to stand on the opposite side of the bed to Gil. 

Malcolm was horrified at the thought of being sedated and he looked from the Dr to Gil with tear filled panicked eyes ready to plead, but Gil was already replying.

“No, thank you Dr.” It was firm in tone but not unfriendly.

A firm warm hand wrapped behind his neck and a protective thumb rubbed up and down lessening his sobs and grounding him as a few silent tears rolled down his bruised cheeks.

“Malcolm listen to me. JT and Dani are on their way here, we can talk when they get here IF you feel up to it but right now all I need you to do is lie back and let me take care of you. Can you do that for me?”

He allowed his body to go limp and sank back further into the bed as instructed, exhaustion consuming him. 

“I won’t be able to sleep.” His voice was quieter now, less rushed. “I can’t.......” 

Gil politely waved Dr Burton and the nurses away indicating that he had it all in hand before he leaned down, running his fingers through the younger man’s hair, another thing he’d not done since he was a child but it still felt natural and warranted given the circumstances. Malcolm soon relaxed into it, eyes now fluttering so close to sleep.

“I tried to stop him.”

“Shh, I know you did Son, I know you did.”

The next time Dr Burton entered Malcolm’s room the other agents had arrived and Malcom was sitting up in bed supported with pillows and looking relaxed. He was sucking on a lollipop which the Dr thought was a bit odd but when he looked around the room he noticed that everyone had one. 

Without a word Gil walked over and passed a lollipop to the Dr who couldn’t hide his confusion as he took it still looking around the room slightly perplexed.

JT shrugged his shoulders to show he thought it was odd too but he kept sucking his own lollipop all the same. 

“Trauma and candy - it’s kind of our thing.” Malcolm offered up and Dr Burton nodded as he unwrapped his before popping it into his mouth and holding it there as he carried out Malcolm’s obs.


End file.
